


Don't You Worry

by goingdownsinging



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-04
Updated: 2013-02-04
Packaged: 2017-11-28 05:35:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/670861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goingdownsinging/pseuds/goingdownsinging
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Then Nick lets him know that Harry's on speaker so he can finish getting dressed and Harry can only imagine. He always gets up when Nick does when they’re both home, he fixes the other’s breakfast and feeds Lex before driving Nick to the studio, and right now he’s not there to do any of it. It’s obvious that Nick’s not used to doing this by himself anymore, either, and it’s just sad. “Are you alright over there?” Harry finally asks when Nick curses loudly. “Yeah, just struggling to get Lex out of the house,” the older man mumbles, sounding slightly out of breath after chasing the dog around. “I swear he misses you even more than I do.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't You Worry

**Author's Note:**

> Someone on Tumblr asked me to write something “from Harry’s point of view? About liking Nick/being away from Nick? Most are usually from Nick’s or no-one’s.” I hope this is what they were looking for. It's horribly fluffy, a bit angsty and has been posted on Tumblr before!

Nick isn’t a boy anymore, not even close, and Harry sometimes forgets. He’s still a needy teenager after all, desperate to spend every waking moment with his boyfriend, especially since it’s still so new. He wants to be with Nick day and night, drive him to the studio in the morning and hold his hand when they’re out as physical proof that they really are together. He’s a desperate teenager wanting to spend every waking moment with his boyfriend, but he’s also Harry Styles of One Direction and that changes everything.

According to Nick, there are two completely different versions of Harry. The teenage version that wants to be carelessly, recklessly in love with his first serious boyfriend, and the international pop star who’s not allowed to be in love with anyone but himself and his fans. Nick can easily tell them apart and knows exactly when Harry goes from teenager to pop star in those two seconds before a fan attacks him on the streets of London. The invasion of his privacy is annoying and frustrating, but there’s nothing he can do but put his guard up again and he hates it. He wants to be recklessly in love with his boyfriend, who is now, unfortunately, on the other side of the ocean and in a completely different time zone. Harry hates it even more when the pop star life blocks any reckless feelings his inner teenager has.

\--- 

They’re in the middle of a very extensive tour across America and Harry is still jetlagged. He keeps himself that way by listening to Nick’s radio show in the middle of the night, always on his headphones because Louis is always in the other bed in the hotel room they’re staying in for the night and he doesn’t want to wake his best friend. Besides, this is private. It’s Harry listening to his boyfriend’s radio show and he knows it doesn’t mean anything since tons of others are listening, but it’s his boyfriend, the same one he hasn’t seen in weeks and this is all he can get.

Harry can’t help but let out a relieved sigh as he hears a click on the other side of the line, signalling that Nick’s just accepted the call. “I miss you terribly and I want to come home,” is the first thing he says, skipping the polite nonsense and getting right to the point. He’s tired and already in bed while Louis is taking a shower to give Harry a few minutes alone. He’s wearing one of Nick’s ratty old t-shirts that he stole from a drawer before he left, but the smell is slowly fading and he doesn’t like it one bit. “I want to come home,” Harry repeats, his voice sounding a bit whiney but mostly sleepy, giving away how long this day has really been for him.

Nick’s voice sounds distant and crackly, reminding Harry of the ocean and various time zones that are separating them. “I miss you too,” comes the other’s warm voice and Harry can almost hear him smile. “Even Lex misses you, hear,” Nick laughs and it sounds as if he’s struggling to get his – their – pup off the sofa, but then it’s Harry’s turn to laugh as he hears the dog’s bark, the one that nearly resembles a hoarse sounding duck. Instead of being amused at Nick’s struggle and Lex’s greeting, he’s feeling an intense sadness and a deep longing to just be home. All he needs is a tight hug after a long day, the reassurance that he can do this and that he’s loved by someone he’s not related to.

Then Nick lets him know that Harry's on speaker so he can finish getting dressed and Harry can only imagine. He always gets up when Nick does when they’re both home, he fixes the other’s breakfast and feeds Lex before driving Nick to the studio, and right now he’s not there to do any of it. It’s obvious that Nick’s not used to doing this by himself anymore, either, and it’s just sad. “Are you alright over there?” Harry finally asks when Nick curses loudly. “Yeah, just struggling to get Lex out of the house,” the older man mumbles, sounding slightly out of breath after chasing the dog around. “I swear he misses you even more than I do.”

Harry lets out a deep, shaky breath and closes his eyes, just focussing on the sound of Nick’s voice and trying hard not to think about how much longer he’ll have to miss this. “I’ll let you go now, but don’t forget to text later, alright? I want to hear all about your meeting with James Bond,” Harry says and his lips curl into a warm, genuine smile. He knows how excited the other is about the whole thing and no matter how much he wants to go home, he’s still happy for Nick. “I’ll try calling you later, but sleep first, alright?” Harry scrunches up his nose because this is what Nick tells him every day since he’s worried that Harry’s not getting enough sleep, and he isn’t, but it’s always worth it.

“Yeah, yeah, but I’m listening to your show first. Now go, else you’ll be late and your team will hate you,” he shuns Nick and curls up even more underneath the expensive hotel sheets, already knowing what’s coming next. “Love you,” Nick says and Harry doesn’t need more than a second to reply. “Love you too,” he says with a soft sigh and doesn’t end the phone call until Nick does.

—

The tour moves from New York City to Los Angeles, before driving up to Canada and flying down to South America. Days blend and Harry has lost all sense of time. He wakes up in the early morning and goes to bed past midnight, and he’s exhausted. Listening to Nick’s early morning show has become impossible since he can no longer work out the time zones and he's too busy to listen to the pod cast on the website. All he can feel is how tired he is and how desperate he is to go home, and he simply forgets to call or text. One morning he wakes up to a lengthy email with at least ten attachments from Nick, just to tell Harry all about the pie he made and how delicious it was, how he promises to make another one when Harry is back and that he understands that Harry is busy and sometimes doesn’t have time for phone calls. No matter how much of a needy teenager Harry is, Nick understands. He gets how Harry doesn’t want to be forgotten and how much the other loves him, but never expects anything in return. He understands.

Nick stops texting when Harry does, but starts sending daily emails instead. They include lengthy descriptions of his day, of the crazy interviews on his radio shows and nights out with their friends, but sometimes it’s nothing more than an empty email with twenty photos attached to it. Nick wants Harry to know that he’s loved and definitely not forgotten, and wants to include him in London’s everyday life while he’s living the pop star dream in America, Canada or wherever he is. No matter how tired he gets, Harry always makes time to reply and it’s even better than phone calls. There’s no pressure to pick up or text back, and he can take his time to read an email over and over again, laugh at the terrible pictures of their mess of a kitchen and Lex accidentally chewing on one of Nick’s old shoes. It’s giving him some sense of normalcy in this whirlwind he’s caught up in, and he appreciates it.

Some days Harry’s replies are endless because he’s frustrated and lonely and wants to get on the first plane back to London, but other days he doesn’t even know what to say, too tired to bring himself to tell Nick about yet another annoying journalist and only replies with a simple ‘I love you’. Nick never complains, though, as long as he’s getting a sign of life every once in a while.

—

“Lou? D’you think he means it?” They’re in a hotel somewhere in Brazil, days before they’re flying back home. Louis has just crawled into the other bed in the room and Harry’s more asleep than anything at the moment, his mind working in strange ways that Louis doesn’t seem to comprehend just yet. “Who means what, Haz?” Louis asks, careful as if he’s not sure if he’s supposed to understand this.

“Nick,” Harry states quietly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “D’you think he really gets it?” He then pauses for a minute to get more comfortable, curling up on his side with his arms wrapped around his pillow, sighing softly as he settles down again. “That he loves me without expecting anything in return when I’m here?” Here is tour and Louis gets it now. Being with someone has never been this easy and effortless for Harry before and sometimes his relationship with Nick seems too good to be true. Nick’s known for his endless list of one night stands, for his celebrity friendships and lack of commitment to anything, but everything with Harry seems different, even to the highly protective Louis. 

“He’s in it for the long run, I think,” Louis answers as he gets comfortable and pulls the sheets up to just below his nose, just the way he likes it. “Else he wouldn’t even have started something. It’s been eleven months now.” And Harry nods in the darkness of the room because Louis is right. Nick’s an idiot, but Harry loves him dearly and he knows Nick loves him too. Harry is too young or Nick is too old, they still fight over that sometimes, but they’re so horribly domestic when they’re both home. Harry has his own flat but usually ends up sleeping in Nick’s bed instead and they’re basically living together. They walk Lex together, do their grocery shopping together and if Nick’s friends invite him over for drinks, Harry’s coming with him and those people suddenly turn into _their_ friends. It’s easy and comfortable. It’s Nick keeping him grounded in this massive whirlwind that’s threatened to swallow him up multiple times since X Factor ended and One Direction began. So maybe Louis is right.

“Ten months,” Harry mumbles as he’s on the verge of falling asleep. “Eleven tomorrow.” 

—

The next morning Harry calls his and Nick’s favourite florist in London and places an order for the same day. He’s flying home in the evening, finally, but his and Nick’s eleven-month anniversary will be over as soon as he arrives in London. He might have been busy, but he’s ready to go home and his head’s everywhere but in Brazil. Interviews and a talk show appearance are enough to keep him distracted for a few hours, until he checks his phone and sees ten missed calls and just as many texts and emails, all from Nick. Harry is worried for a second, afraid that something terrible might have happened, until he opens the first text message. The flowers have arrived and Nick was so excited about the unexpected gesture that he nearly forgot that Harry is still in Brazil. He goes through all the texts and emails and smiles when he finds a picture of a huge bouquet of flowers on the side table in the living room, flowers that’ll still be there when he gets home.

_love you.xx_

Harry saves the last text that Nick sent him and smiles, warm and happy, as he reads it over and over again. This is real. Unconditional. Harry might still be a needy teenager, but he can feel it in his heart and bones.

—

The flight is long and Harry is fidgety. He can’t sleep and watches every single one of the terrible in-flight movies until the plane finally touches down in London. The lack of sleep of not only this flight, but of the entire tour is creeping up on him. Thoughts of home keep him going, get him into a taxi and then to the front door of Nick’s apartment where he notices something strange. The tiny nameplate underneath the doorbell has been replaced and he needs a moment to fully register what it says. The ‘N. Grimshaw’ has been replaced with ‘Grimshaw & Styles’ in a tiny, cursive script. Harry runs his finger over their last names and smiles when he realises that it’s real now, official for the world to see without him having to tell or explain anyone. Then the door opens and Harry is home.

“I thought I heard something!” Nick doesn’t bother with polite nonsense as he wraps his arms around Harry and pulls him inside. Harry is quick to pull his suitcase with him and kick the front door shut, before wrapping both arms tightly around Nick’s slightly taller body. “I missed you,” he murmurs against the man’s woolly jumper, smiling at the way it tickles his nose a bit. Nick’s jumper smells vaguely of cigarette smoke and his favourite cologne, but also the faint scent of food that’s much more obvious in the flat’s kitchen, and Harry missed this terribly. He doesn’t move for a long while and when he does, it’s to reach up and brush a soft, delicate kiss to Nick’s lips. “I missed you too,” Nick murmurs as he glances into Harry’s eyes for a second. “Let’s go to bed, then,” he starts, already letting go of the other’s body and linking their fingers instead. “I’ll make sure to wake you in time for dinner. I made that spinach and feta pie, just like I promised I’d do.”

All Harry can do is nod and follow Nick to the bedroom, because he understands. Nick and Harry don’t talk about their feelings but rather _feel_ it instead and they know. This is real, unconditional and they’re home, until their names wear off the nameplate on the front door.


End file.
